


So you've never...

by PoorWendy



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Time, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 14:37:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15269622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoorWendy/pseuds/PoorWendy
Summary: Somewhere along the line, Peter realized why he liked talking to Thor so much. Why he liked staying up late with him so much. Why he liked talking so close. Why he liked leaning against him.They talk about stupid shit. Fights they’ve won. And eventually, fights they’ve lost. They share jokes, drinks. Scars.And that’s how this came up. The scars. They’ve already shared battle scars. Tonight, Peter shared the other scars. The ones he collected screwing his way across the galaxy.





	So you've never...

**Author's Note:**

> For ThorQuill Week - Day 4: First Experiences
> 
> Same kind of canon divergence. In a pre-or-non-IW universe where the Guardians encounter the Revengers sometime after Guardians vol. 2 and Ragnarok.
> 
> \---
> 
> *I've altered the ending of this fic a tiny bit. I realized, months later, that I ended the ~sexy scene in a different room than I'd started it. WHOOPS.

They always get caught up talking, and it always leaves them as the last two eating, food growing cold. Although it’s not just at dinner. They get caught up talking a lot. While they fly, after the others have gone to sleep. It started out as bickering. Then somewhere along the line they warmed up to each other. They still bickered, but it was lighter. And then somewhere further down along the line they just started talking, without the bickering. Mostly.

Somewhere along the line, Peter realized why he liked talking to Thor so much. Why he liked staying up late with him so much. Why he liked talking so close. Why he liked leaning against him. 

They talk about stupid shit. Fights they’ve won. And eventually, fights they’ve lost. They share jokes, drinks. Scars.

And that’s how this came up. The scars. They’ve already shared battle scars. Tonight, Peter shared the other scars. The ones he collected screwing his way across the galaxy.

“So they’re all from women, then,” Thor observes, brushing a fingertip over the scar on Peter’s ribcage.

“Well,” Peter says, chewing, putting his shirt back down. “You’ve already seen all the ones I got fighting.”

Thor nods. “I mean, all the ones that weren’t from fighting. That were from lovers. They’re all from women?”

Peter tilts his head, swallows. “Well, yeah, of course they’re from women,” which is self-preserving. Because Peter doesn’t know much about what Thor might want. They don’t usually talk about this, but Peter knows about Jane. And Peter’s been wondering, he’s been wondering a lot about whether Thor could ever be interested.

Thor just looks back down at his bowl. “So you’ve never…” he trails off, taking another bite of his dinner.

Peter doesn’t answer right away. “With a guy?” he asks, putting it off further. Thor nods, not looking up. “No.” Thor just keeps nodding. “I mean,” Peter starts, self-correcting, and Thor looks up. “Well,” Peter tries again, swallows again, “I mean, I never, not like that, you know?”

Thor shakes his head. “I don’t. Why don’t you tell me?” Thor’s too practical. He’s especially good at being practical and matter-of-fact when he talks with Peter.

“I fooled around,” Peter says, and he’s the one who has to look down this time. “I fooled around with guys. Mostly when I was a kid. Then just, I don’t know. A few times since then.”

“Fooled around,” Thor echoes, and Peter doesn’t think he’s actually confused about what that means. Peter thinks Thor just wants some more specifics.

“Like,” Peter says, figures there’s no real going back now. “Kissing. And, you know,” Peter sighs. “I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do,” Thor says, and they meet each other’s eyes again.

“Feeling up,” Peter says. “Shit like that. Over-the-clothes, sloppy kind of stuff.” Thor nods some more, but he’s quiet. “But never more than that,” Peter goes on. “And not in a while.” More quiet. “Years.” And it has been years. Five or six, easy. He wants Thor to say something. To say more. To offer up his own experience. Peter can’t take these brief answers, the casual tone, all the fucking _nodding_. “What about you?” he finally asks, feeling like if he holds the question in his mouth any longer, it’ll burn a hole in his tongue.

“Lots of times,” Thor answers, just as casually.

“Lots of times what?” Peter asks.

Thor smirks. “Well, I’m 1500 years old. Pretty much everything.”

Peter swallows. “Huh,” he observes lamely, his head spinning with ideas of what _everything_ entails.

“Surprises you?” Thor asks, pushing his bowl, now empty, away.

Peter shrugs. “Sort of,” he says. “Only ever heard you talk about Jane.”

Thor smiles, a little sadly. “Well,” he starts, leans forward, elbows on the table, “we don’t really talk about things like this. Not very much.”

Peter considers. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Now that he thinks about it, tonight, going through the scars is the most detailed he’s gotten about his past romantic—if you can call it that—life. Mostly Thor has heard the other Guardians reference Peter’s past, the screwing around. “That’s kind of weird,” he says, “that we haven’t.”

“Why is it weird?” Thor asks.

“Well, I mean,” Peter starts, looks around trying to find the words. He should just be honest. He usually is, with Thor. “We talk a lot. We’re, I mean, we’re kind of friends.”

“I think so,” Thor says.

“And I think about that kind of thing a lot.”

“About women?” Thor asks, and there’s finally something else in his voice besides that casual tone. This is a leading question.

Peter takes a sip of his beer. “About sex,” he clarifies. “Or, romance. Whatever.” Thor nods. Fucking nodding again. Peter takes another sip of his beer. If there’s ever been a moment, this might be it. “I think about it a lot around you,” he says, then, looking down at his bottle. “The kissing. The fooling around,” he goes on. Then, after another deep breath. “More than fooling around.”

“You mean,” Thor says, and it seems like he’s finally letting his guard down, although Peter’s also kind of only just now realizing it was even up, “ _with_ me?”

“Yeah,” Peter answers, a little too quickly. “Yeah, doing it with you.”

Thor huffs out a sweet little breath. Peter can tell he’s fighting a smile. “Doing what, exactly?” Thor asks, and now he’s just being greedy.

Peter rolls his eyes. “Pretty much everything,” he says, echoing what Thor said a minute ago.

Thor puts his hand low on Peter’s back, turns toward him. Peter’s heart is racing, his body hyper-aware of how close they are, how warm Thor’s fingers are through his shirt. “I think about it too,” Thor says, and leans in, bringing his mouth an inch away from Peter’s, waiting there a moment, maybe to give Peter a chance to back away, or protest.

Peter doesn’t.

Thor presses his lips to Peter’s, and it’s so soft, so gentle, and Peter melts into it, molds against Thor as best he can while sitting side-by-side like this.

Thor brings the hand that isn’t on Peter’s back up behind his neck, holds him and kisses deeper, sweeps his tongue over Peter’s lips. Peter, uncoolly, gasps at that, and Thor takes that opportunity to slide his tongue inside Peter’s mouth.

Suddenly, Peter can’t keep his hands to himself. They rush up to Thor’s face, Thor’s beard bristling against his palms. He opens his mouth wider, pushes his tongue over Thor’s, makes some undignified, high sound in the process.

Thor hums back at it, slides his hand around Peter’s back to settle on his hip, holds him tighter. Peter runs his hands down to Thor’s neck, strokes his thumbs under Thor’s jaw. He keeps one hand right there, but the other wanders, and if Peter were thinking straight he’d probably tell himself his hand was wandering of its own accord, but it’s not. He wants more.

He trails his fingers down over Thor’s chest, over his abs, down until he reaches the hem of Thor’s shirt. He pushes up underneath it, desperate to feel Thor’s skin, all that hard muscle. When he does it, Thor hums again, kisses Peter a little deeper.

Peter can hardly stand it, the way Thor keeps _humming_ like that. He’s making quite the effort not to whine into Thor’s mouth. And to remember they’re still just sitting at the table. And in spite of knowing that, his hand still finds its way out from underneath Thor’s shirt, and down past his belt. He stills there for a moment. It’s just a moment, and Thor’s breath hitches, and then Peter’s groping between his legs.

Thor pulls back. “Sorry,” Peter stutters quickly, goes to pull his hand away, but Thor catches him by the wrist, holds his hand where it is. Peter moans softly in his surprise, at the feeling of Thor stiffening under his fingers. Something about hearing his own voice like that, now that Thor’s tongue’s out of his mouth, gives Peter a bit of pause. He can’t help looking around, making sure they’re really alone. He wouldn’t have known if they weren’t.

“You alright?” Thor asks, still holding Peter’s wrist, his arm still holding Peter close.

Peter nods. “Let’s go,” he breathes.

Thor raises an eyebrow. “Go where?”

“Your room,” Peter offers. “My room. Whichever.”

Thor nods. “Alright,” he says.

Peter was willing to leave his bowl right on the table, but Thor’s not as much of a slob as Peter is, and he collects both their bowls and deposits them in the sink. Peter talks him out of washing them. Well, not so much talks him out of it as reaches around him to grope him some more.

They go to Peter’s room, Peter leading Thor there. He almost thinks twice about it once he locks the door behind them, because his room is sort of a sty. But Thor sidles up behind him, wraps his arms around Peter’s waist, kisses below his ear. It sends goosebumps all up and down Peter’s arms.

Peter lets himself sigh this time, and pushes away from Thor, though Thor’s reluctant to let him go at first. When he does, Peter goes to the stereo system he and Rocket put together once they all boarded the Statesman, and pushes play on his Zune.

Music fills his room, and Peter takes a seat on the bed. “C’mere,” he says, soft, a little nervous now that they’ve paused the rhythm they had going up at the table. Thor climbs onto the bed, lies down on his side, holds his arms out for Peter to settle against him, facing him.

“Fooled around, you said,” Thor asks, wrapping Peter up again. Peter nods. “Kissed,” Thor says, and kisses Peter. “Felt up,” he says, and runs a hand far up Peter’s shirt, brushes a thumb over his nipple. Peter nods some more. “What else did you do with them?”

Peter groans. Thor’s voice is _deep_ , like it always is, but it’s also warm and thick with want in such a new way. Peter reaches up and grabs Thor’s hand, pulls it out of his shirt, pulls it down between their hips, turns it so he can press Thor’s palm against his own cock, hard now inside his pants. Even though he’s the one who put it there, Peter moans at the contact, the way Thor’s fingers grab at him eagerly.

“Like that?” Thor asks.

“Yeah,” Peter answers, lips against Thor’s jaw. God, he’s wanted this so badly.

“What else?” Thor asks, and Peter can hear in his voice he’s getting off on this. Peter’s not sure if it’s Peter getting so worked up, or if it’s thinking about Peter with those other guys, or what. But something about this is really pushing Thor over some edge. “Show me,” Thor tells him.

Peter pushes Thor by the shoulders onto his back. Thor exhales quickly. Peter caught him off guard. Peter climbs up over Thor’s lap, thighs on either side of him. He leans down, puts his tongue in Thor’s mouth again, grinds his hips down. Because Thor wants to know, and this is the kind of frantic, sloppy, youthful bullshit Peter’s done. Grinding his clothed cock against some other guy’s hips.

Thor puts a hand at the back of Peter’s head, tangles his fingers into Peter’s hair. Peter lifts his hips up, digs a hand into his own pants to readjust himself, and then ruts against Thor a few more times. Thor brings his other hand down to grab a handful of Peter’s ass. Peter pulls his lips away from Thor’s, speaks into Thor’s ear. “This,” he says. “A lot of this. That’s what else.” He pushes down hard against Thor’s hips, lets himself groan louder against Thor’s ear.

Thor squeezes Peter’s ass appreciatively. “I remember this,” he says fondly, holds Peter close.

Peter rolls his eyes, even if Thor can’t see it. “Right, you’re this big, seasoned expert,” he says, and it feels good to know he’s got enough of a grip on himself to bicker a little.

Thor laughs. “I didn’t mean it like that. I _like_ this,” he says. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

Peter nips at Thor’s earlobe. “I want _more,”_ he says, bold, breath hot against Thor’s skin.

Thor sighs. “What do you want,” he asks, holding on to Peter’s ass, his other hand moving out of Peter’s hair and down his body, fingertips slipping _just_ inside the back of Peter’s pants.

 _“Oh,”_ Peter whines a little, wants so much more, doesn’t have it in him to mince words anymore. “I want your hands on me,” he says. “On my skin.” He bites Thor’s ear harder. “On my cock.”

“Yeah?” Thor asks, pulls his fingers out from behind Peter’s waistband and weaves that hand between their hips instead.

“Yeah,” Peter says, “and, _fuck,”_ he swears, stutters as Thor fumbles with his belt, “I wanna feel your cock too.” Peter’s face is hot. He knows he’s blushing as he says all this. He doesn’t care. He’s been waiting too long to touch Thor. Might as well let his mouth ask for everything.

Peter pushes himself up so he’s sitting upright on Thor’s lap, and as soon as Thor has Peter’s belt open, Peter’s hands rush to his fly, and it’s a whole joint effort getting Peter’s cock out. And then it’s out, and they each freeze for a minute, Peter staring at Thor, Thor staring down at Peter’s cock.

“Please,” Peter says, tries to say it softly enough that it won’t sound so helpless. But it does. Thor licks his lips, glances up to meet Peter’s gaze, reaches out and wraps a hand around Peter while he looks right in his eyes. _“Oh,”_ Peter moans, voice high and weak. His cock is already leaking. He’s so hard it almost hurts, and just the fact that he’s here with Thor… the fact that Thor wants him like this… He feels like he’s lucky he didn’t fucking come in his pants. He hasn’t felt this kind of urgency since he was a teenager.

“Come here,” Thor says, grabs the front of Peter’s t-shirt with his other hand, pulls him down, kisses him again. Then he’s letting go of Peter’s cock, which is just _devastating,_ and Peter whines about it, and Thor says, “Just hold on,” kisses him softly, “hold on.” He wraps an arm around Peter’s waist, tilts them so they’re lying on their sides again, facing each other. “Like this,” he says, takes Peter into his hand again. “Want to keep you close,” he goes on, and leans to kiss Peter as he starts jerking him off.

“Shit,” Peter hisses, at the feel of Thor’s hand, the touch of his lips, the sweet way he’s talking to him. Thor sweeps his thumb over Peter’s leaking slit, spreads his precome around, readjusts his grip to use it to slick Peter up a bit. Peter shudders.

“Feel good?” Thor asks against Peter’s lips.

Peter nods. “Feels good,” he answers dutifully. “Feels fucking awesome,” he goes on stupidly, but Thor laughs, and _god,_ Peter loves it when Thor laughs. And he’s learning all these other things that Thor does that he loves.

Like, it turns out Peter loves when Thor catches his lip between his teeth. And he loves it when Thor rubs his thumb under the head of his cock. And he loves it when Thor kisses just underneath his jaw.

And then, he _really_ loves the way Thor’s breath hitches when Peter undoes his fly. He loves the way Thor whimpers his name when Peter slips his hand into Thor’s pants and his knuckles brush against Thor’s cock. He loves the way Thor starts lifting his hips and pulling at his own pants clumsy and one-handed so Peter can properly wrap his hand around him.

“Jesus,” Peter mutters, disbelievingly, wondering how he got here when half an hour ago the two of them were just sitting and eating dinner with everybody like usual. Now he’s lying here, Thor’s cock in his hand, Thor lying here beside him jerking him off. “This is…” he trails off, buries his face in Thor’s neck, muffling the moans that are seeping wantonly out of his mouth.

“It’s what?” Thor asks, breathing a little ragged now as Peter starts stroking him. Peter tells him it’s incredible, tells him he can’t believe it, tells him how badly he’s been wanting this, but he says it all with his mouth pressed hard in the crook of Thor’s neck, because it all sounds so needy and weak, even in his head. Thor lets go of Peter’s cock, and Peter sobs against him, and Thor pulls Peter’s head back by the hair. “I want to hear,” he says, and then he pulls Peter back some more, so he can stare into his eyes.

 _”Fuck,”_ Peter says, “It’s amazing,” he says. “I can’t fucking believe it,” his stupid mouth says, “can’t believe you want me—”

“I want you,” Thor says, interrupting him, and he sounds pretty needy himself.

Peter presses his mouth to Thor’s again, like it’s the only way he can shut himself up. But even that doesn’t work. He pulls back, mutters, “Can’t believe it,” pushes his forehead against Thor’s and looks down between them, momentarily entranced by the way he’s peeling Thor’s foreskin back with every downward stroke, the way his cockhead is appearing and disappearing. “Fuck, I’m… God, you’re gonna make me come,” he says, distantly ashamed, because he knows it’s fast, it’s so fast.

“Want me to keep going like this?” Thor asks. When Peter gives him a half-confused little look, Thor asks, “Want my mouth?”

“Oh my god,” Peter groans, hips jerking into Thor’s grip at the very thought. “Oh my god.”

“You want it?” Thor asks, kisses Peter, slows his hand.

Peter nods. “I do,” he says. “But I think I might come really quick if we—”

“Well, do you want to come like this or do you want to come in my mouth?” Thor says quickly. Peter shivers. Thor lets go of Peter’s cock, and wraps his hand over Peter’s hand instead. It’s only then that Peter realizes he’s stopped stroking Thor completely. He starts again, or maybe Thor is just jerking himself off with Peter’s hand now.

“Your mouth,” Peter finally answers.

Thor nods, moans, picks up the pace with his hand. “Come up here,” he says, glances down at Peter’s cock. “Kneel next to me. Is that okay?”

Peter nods, eyes wide. Thor lets go of his hand, and Peter lets go of Thor’s cock, and as Peter crawls clumsily up the bed, Thor sits up and peels his shirt off. That’s rather distracting. Thor’s body is unreal, every muscle toned and hard and perfect. He’s a fucking adonis.

No. A _god._

He shakes his head, watches as Thor reaches back down for his own cock, starts pumping it furiously. “Come here,” Thor says, and Peter looks back to Thor’s face, and his eyes are dark and heavy. His mouth is red and wet. And he wants Peter to fill it with his cock. Jesus fucking Christ.

Peter nods, edges closer. Thor takes his free hand, puts it behind Peter, pulls his hips closer, leans forward, licks at the head of Peter’s cock. Peter’s eyes roll back, but he forces them open, doesn’t want to miss a second of this. “Fuck,” he breathes, barely makes a sound, but he knows that Thor heard when the corners of his mouth quirk up. Thor glances up, meets his gaze briefly, before looking back at Peter’s cock and wrapping his lips around it.

 _Warm._ Thor’s mouth is warm, and wet. It’s soft and it’s sweet and Thor hums after he swirls his tongue around Peter’s cockhead. Somewhere in the back of his mind he feels like he should still be taking care of Thor with his hand, but Thor seems content enough to jerk himself off while he starts gulping Peter down, shallow and slow.

But only at first.

It’s a strange angle, with Thor lying on his back, head turned sideways but still bobbing back and forth. Peter watches, mesmerized, as Thor pushes his head forward, forward, until Peter’s cock is pressing into Thor’s throat. “Holy shit,” Peter says. “So fucking good.”

Thor grabs at the back of Peter’s pants, pulls them down to expose his ass, palms Peter’s bare cheek. He picks up his pace, takes Peter farther into his throat, keens and groans, hips bucking up now so that he’s fucking his own fist.

It’s all so much. Peter’s balls tighten, he feels himself slipping over the edge. “Shit,” he swears. _”Shit,_ I’m gonna come, I’m gonna—”

 _”Mm-hm,”_ Thor hums encouragingly, squeezes Peter’s ass, pushes forward so that his lips are wrapped around the base of Peter’s cock, and Christ, he’s done-for.

Peter tries to still his hips, but they jerk back, and then forward again, and Thor lets go of himself to take Peter by the waist and hold him mostly-still as he swallows Peter’s load down.

When he’s swallowed it all, he pulls off Peter’s cock, gasping, and Peter collapses beside him, catching his breath, giving himself just a minute to compose himself before his eyes dart down to Thor’s cock again.

“Incredible,” Peter breathes. “Fuck, you’re good, you’re so good.” And he reaches out, strokes over Thor’s cheek with his thumb. “You gonna come?”

Thor nods, biting his own lip. “Will you kiss me?”

Peter’s surprised to find he will, and without hesitation, leans over and presses his mouth to Thor’s, licking into it, tasting his own come on Thor’s tongue. He pulls back to pass his eyes up and down Thor’s body, watches the muscles flexing in his arm, the veins bulging. “God, you’re fucking hot,” he says, and it feels good to say it, after thinking it for so long.

Thor’s hips stutter, his pace falters, he calls out as he comes in thick ropes on his own chest. His body goes lax, his eyes roll back and close, his head falls flat against the pillow as he strokes himself through it.

“Holy shit,” Peter says. Because, honestly, what a fucking sight.

Thor grins after a minute, a sleepy, lazy grin. “Holy shit,” he agrees quietly. And that makes Peter laugh. “I should clean myself up.”

“Let me get you something,” Peter says, standing up, starting to pull up his pants.

“No,” Thor says, shaking his head, waving a hand dismissively. “Don’t do that. If you're dressed when I get back, it'll make me feel like I have to leave.”

Peter blushes. “I don't want you to leave,” he says, as Thor gropes for his discarded shirt and wipes up the mess from his chest before rising from the bed and getting properly naked.

“Good," Thor says. "I’ll be back." He leans down and kisses Peter, then turns retreats to the bathroom to wash up. The music sounds so much louder now that Peter's head is quieting down. He sits up to lower the volume. He gets the rest of his clothes off while Thor’s gone, gets under the covers, nearly drifts off before Thor gets back. “Much better,” Thor’s voice observes from above him, and climbs in beside him.

Peter manages to keep himself awake, and they get caught up talking.

They always get caught up talking.


End file.
